magical girl

Your voice on the stereo, your smile beaming from framed pictures, the pride in your mother’s voice when she speaks of you. You are everything that is beautiful and magical in this world.  And the world, it can’t help but love you.

The stark contrast of it, it makes me ache. The diffrence in things that we must cry about, or have our hearts broken over. Your sweet nature and humility, it makes me stand in wonder when I think about how passionately you pursue your dreams. For some, passion is a luxury. For you, it’s your life. You live and breathe what most of us can only dare to dream. Someone so young, given every opportunity and blessing. Fate has singled you out, made you tall and beautiful. Tall enough so when you stand, we can’t help but stare in awe.

You are golden. An icon for us to admire, yet human enough to touch. When I look at your smiles beaming from behind those well-polished frames, I feel a pang that I don’t understand. It’s not jealousy or envy. I can’t hate you, you won’t let me. Like everyone else, I can’t help but fall just a little in love with you, with your talent and glowing aura of delicate perfection. Neither am I completely happy, because while I am, there is this thirst and wanting that wells up from within.  I don’t know that anyone naturally deserves to be this gifted and happy. Forgive me, but sometimes I wonder what your struggles must be like, and if your grace carries you through trials, that even they seem like a waltz.

It’s not the lingering taste of sour grapes or bitterness on my lips that makes me want to say these things. It’s a sense of awe, and plenty of wonder at the lots that were cast in life. There is, inevitably, a kind of wanting in my eyes when I look at how much beauty and love surround your life. A rose can only flourish in a greenhouse, under tender care and supervision.

I ache, with a longing that I wonder can ever be fulfilled. For just a little of your light, and your luck as you walk lightly on clouds, or through scented gardens. Because sometimes, being out of the greenhouse can be chilly. Its the bending of a floral stem, as it struggles to face the light. Even light that is reflected off another flower.

waiting

Love,

I looked for you today. I’m not sure you’ll recall so I’m writing this down to remind you. October 22nd, 2006. New York. It was a brisk Autumn day, and I waited for you at Cafe Angelique, on the corner of Bleeker. I sat by the window and watched dogs and their owners, and children with their parents pass by.

Have you ever noticed how comfortably dogs stand by their masters? This man reached down and patted his dog on the head, absent mindedly while waiting for the light to change. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Something comfortable and familiar. I miss having a dog.

Chocolate croissants and foamy cappuccinos are the most divine thing in the world. Even on a Sunday morning and you have three essays to write. The pastry was flaky. I would have liked to watch you bite into it and laugh at the crumbs on your lips.

I went home and threw open the windows. It seems I can never have enough fresh air these days. Like if I inhale deeply enough, it will cleanse me from inside out. The cold briskness of it. A shower for your soul.

Have you ever noticed that scent memories are the strongest? Its the scent of a moment, a person, a wrinkle in time. Scent is the first thing we take into our bodies. We breathe in and make it a part of ourselves. I wear “Light Blue” always – so you’ll remember when you inhale me.

I’m writing this in another cafe. Pane Justo. Lunch. I miss Italy. Waiting for someone doesn’t seem quite so lonely in Europe. Maybe because of the romance. New York isn’t a city for waiting and romance. People herre are doers. Movers and shakers.

But this cafe, it seems just right. So deliciously Tuscan and earthy. From the beige-washed walls, strong oal tables to the scent of fresh ground pesto. So here I am, in this little piece of Italy. Waiting for you to walk through those doors and into my life.

comissioned

The problem with living once place and working in others is that often times you’re paid in different currencies. And depending on the particular exchange rate, (and whether or not you recall that there are multiple accounts to maintain) you might have more or less money.  Oh well. Money is money – and being a broke college student… well.

But what’s been kind of cool lately, is that that I’ve been getting requests to do a lot of freelance work. Creative stuff, too. Which is a change from the usual humdrum of corporate life. I have two commissions for photography – one is child/family portraiture (Christmas stuff) and the other is just headshots/general photography for a model. I also have a website request (actually, two.. potentially.) Our firm hired a webmaster to design the site (this was a year ago, before I joined) and they’ve spent over 1000 dollars on it and so far, still nothing to show for it. There’s maybe a haphazard design (no actual codes) and the girl doing it is requesting an advance of 500. The design template that I did see made me want to laugh. Seriously. 1500 for something that would take perhaps 3 hours of actual work? Maybe I’ve got my priorities wrong. I should be going into the tech field.

So how do the above two paragraphs combine? Well I just checked my balance for my Jetsonville account – and I completely forgot that my summer internship salary was deposited there. My semester’s budget is in USD and has been transfered here, and thus far, I’m right on track financially. I had not anticipated getting paid for my current internship either, so that’s extra dough too. In short? There is padding financially. Not a lot, but enough to be comfortable coveting new toys.

It’s been four years since I made my last investment on photography. As awesome as my Nikon film SLR is, I realize that it’s too expensive to keep shooting film, and I also have limited time in the dark room. What I really need is a digital SLR. The ability to shoot quickly, see results and not be afraid to make mistakes or waste film. I need the freedom of shooting rapidly and to my heart’s content, to understand how light really works, how  to best capture expressions and moments. Secondly, I need a domain. Badly. My techie skills have been gathering dust, and given the number of years that I’ve been designing websites, I should be far more proficient in computer languages.. and to this day, I still can’t code in PHP, flash and have only the most rudimentary understanding of Javascript. Really now. Not acquiring new skills is not good.

So sitting on my limited pile of resources – time to make a few smart investments.. question is, do I have time? I don’t want to do any of these projects haphazardly. What I should have done was been smart early on and started a webdesign company to help fund myself through college. Projects come a lot easier than I thought – and it’s not really all that hard to advertise. Thing is, now that I’m looking towards graduation.. how much time is it worth investing? Regardless, I want my own site, if only to post my own writing and photography. Thoughts? Domain name suggestions? It’s really time I got this project off the drawing board..

out-growing fairytales

Our ghosts, they never completely fade. Be it friendly or haunting, the people we’ve met, the relationships we’ve had, they fundamentally shape who we are. Were it not for these people who have laughed with us, loved us, hurt us, or all three at once – we would be entirely different.

Time and distance are like bandaids. If given enough of either, you find one day that what was so unbearably painful, isn’t so bad. And what remains when you confront that person or situation again, peeling away the bandaid, is a thin white scar or a calloused scab. Flesh that is changed and marked by experience.

Lately there’s been a lot of activity in my life. I struggle finding time to do work, let alone time for myself. I can’t remember the last time I curled up on my bed with a book and a warm throw blanket. These days it’s just easier to have the TV on, some mindless noise so I can zone off without being unconscious. Time away from flickering lights and noise is a good thing. We should have more of it.

But most specifically, there’s been a sudden inflow of drama. Like after three years of chrystalis, I’ve morphed into a female. Correction, I’ve always been female. It’s just now people are noticing. (That may well be the biggest insight that I have this week. Heh) For the first time in my life, there are interests to consider, relationships and situations to manage. And the past, well.. that has a tendency of becoming the present.

After a year of virtual silence, Veer and I have been communicating. First a few emails bounced back and forth, then a few IM’s. Then last night, a 2.5 hour long conversation while he was about to get on a plane. It was an unsettling deja vu, the “hey Kitten” when he answered the phone. It was like old times, only not.

We’ve both grown. Apart. Not “grown apart”. Just growth, separately. He’s at the most prestigious law firm in the west coast, flying out in a few weeks to take place at a regional competition. He’s at the top 1% of not only the law school, but the university. That’s in a school of 50,000. On my part, there have been scholarships, job offers, positions, and honors too. Where we stand is somewhere on Mt. Everest’s basecamp. Each looking up at his or her summit, at the endless possibilities just over the range. And on opposite ends of the world.

There was something so comforting and yet disconcerting about being in touch this week. It felt so good to know that I still retained his respect and admiration, but there’s always this little nagging feeling in the back of my mind. He wants me to consider staying in North America after graduation. I want to be flung to to be far corners of the earth, and to work in the emerging markets. I need a compelling reason to stay. He talked about winter break, of travelling together with friends or otherwise. He called me Kitten.

But here’s the thing. Once upon a time, this was my golden dream. Two years ago, I was planning for where I am now. Looking at graduation, looking to move out west. Few have found and experienced the kind of love I have been blessed to have tasted. If anything, I would have thought that I’d be stuck in the moment, reminiscing. I might have underestimated myself, or overestimated him. But that was two years ago. We’ve grown, apart. And today, I am nobody’s kitten. That is something I never thought I’d be able to say.

Things to do before I die

I found this on my other journal. I’m posting it here to remind myself that once upon a time, there was a girl named Verity and she didn’t always worry and ponder about boys and relationships. Once upon a time, she was focused, energetic and did interesting things. I miss that girl.

100 things to do before I die

http://www.forbes.com/fyi/2000/0918/082.html

Make an enemy for life. A gentleman has been defined as someone who never gives pain to anyone unintentionally. This leaves plenty of leeway for deliberate rudeness toward someone you can’t stand. Stand up to a bully; speak out against a fraud; fight off a rival for a prize. Care enough about something to make someone mad. An enemy helps you define yourself. As Schopenhauer said, “We can come to look upon the deaths of our enemies with as much regret as we feel for those of our friends, namely, when we miss their existence as witnesses to our success.”

1. Defy gravity
2. Discover for myself that the world is round. (Sail in one direction, visit Artic Circle during summer solstice and watch the sun go around the horizon.. in a hot tub)
3. Take someone I love to: Camera delgi spozi (Ducal Palace, Mantova), Charles Bridge (Prague), Palazzo Ducale (Venice)
4. Own a famous piece of art that I really love
5. Learn to drive
6. Own a motorcycle
7. Graduate from law school
8. Visit the Middle East
9. Save a life
10. Be a mentor, one that makes a difference
11. Write a book. (Maybe get it published)
12. Take a pilgrimage – to Jerusalem
13. Follow the silk road
14. Own my own legal practice
15. Outward bound in a rainforest
16. Go skydiving
17. Make a significant human rights difference in a third world country
18. Travel along the Mekong (Tibet, China, Myanmar, Thailand, Laos, Vietnam)
19. Learn to read/write Chinese
20. Become fluent in another language
21. Read Dante’s Divine Comedy in its original Italian
22. Spend a month in the hills of Tuscany – writing, reading, cooking and drinking Chianti
23. Visit every continent
24. Learn to do the front crawl… instead of being a wuss and doing the breast-stroke
25. Meet a world leader (and give him a piece of my mind… heh)
26. Spend at least a month in Africa
27. Worship in a house-church
28. Learn to weild the Chinese straight sword – and the saber (fencing)
29. Win a scholarship a bigger one
30. Invest
31. Own a house
32. Live in a loft
33. Refurbish a fire station so I can have a room in which I can slide down a pole to get to the kitchen (or just put one in…) (Yes, this is from Princess Diaries)
34. Travel through South America
35. See Venice Brazil during Carnival
36. Snorkel/dive in an underwater cave
37. Learn to dance the tango (at my wedding)
38. Watch the YaYas get married (and have babies… well, not watch. Just the baby)

culture clash

I grabbed a bite to eat at Chipotle today after seeing my counselor. We had been talking about two things: boundaries with my mom, and in relationships. I realize that boundaries may not be very condusive to having fun, but then again, fun is like sugar. It’s only good so far, and beyond a certain point – you just get sick and wish you hadn’t had so much.

So I was reading the FT while eating, only I couldn’t concentrate. Next to me, three NYU students were having a very animated (and very loud) discussion of their love lives. Correction, one guy was giving a very animated (and loud) monologue of his love life, his friend (girl) was interjecting with advice, and his other friend (guy) was nodding along and giving high-fives every few minutes or so. It would have been your typical scene in a bad teenage movie.

Most of the conversation was so cliche, it’s not worth repeating. But there were some “rules of dating” that I did take away:

1. girls are supposed to offer to pay on a date by asking “how much can I give you for the check?”
2. if boy declines, girl is supposed to offer the tip
3. if boy declines, girl is supposed to offer to buy drinks (presumably at next locale)
4. if boy declines, boy is pimpin’.
5. if boy kisses girl, boy is waiting for girl to give tongue. Apparantly, it’s only polite
6. if girl fails to use tongue, she’s rude
7. an attractive girl is expected to know she’s attractive
8. attractive girls are manipulative
9. if guy blows $70 on girl, and she does not use tongue upon kiss, it gives boy permission to complain, whine, and use profanity amongst his friends afterwards
10. if guy does not find conversation or girl interesting enough, and does not foresee possibility of relationship, the only decision left to make is how soon he can get in her pants, do her, and leave. This decision is called whether to be “that guy” or not.
11. Some guys prefer relationships that come sex first, then the get-to-know-you part

How did I not know all of this? Really. It all seems so simple. It seems joining a sorority is not enough to make me into a girl.

It also makes me realize that I have committed several faux-pas.

1. I’ve run away after a date
2. I’ve not always offered to pay, but instead pulled out my wallet and been told to put it away
3. I’ve never initated a kiss, let alone tongue
4. I like conversation on a date, not make-out sessions.
5. I must be a disappointing date.

And by #5, that’s not a self-insult. More like woe betide the man that thinks he’s getting laid.

With regards to how things are progressing with D. I have this conversation that’s been running through my head. The only question is whether I deliver it this week, or next week. I think it’ll be next week. I did say to myself that I’d give him one more shot (after the laying of boundaries). Maybe I’ll either get sufficiently pissed off, or on the flip side – be serene enough to deliver it gracefully.

The gist of my decision is this: while I may not know exactly what I want right now, I certainly know what I don’t want. Physical intimacy is still relatively new to me, and it’s still sacred. And I’m beginning to realize that this point of view is becoming increasingly rare. This is not a judgment by any means. But I still find this kind of a massive culture shock. If these are the expectations and norms, how does an idealistic twenty-two year old survive without either becoming completely cynical or a spinster?

Thinking about Veer, I realize now more than ever how lucky I was to have loved and been loved in return – according to my pace, at my time. It may have been in the past, but at least it stands as encouragement that not all things play by the world’s rules

turning the tables

It’s the underdog pulling the unforeseen touchdown right before half time, the dork crowned prom queen, and all that jazz. We like to root for the underlings. We’d like to think that at some point, the playing field becomes level, or that inner beauty and strength ultimately shines through.

College years are a time of growth and development. I think I’ve grown in every other aspect of my life, and now this is the final frontier. Understanding the whole business of men, women and relationships. But from the huge selection of self-help books at Barnes and Noble, I’m guessing that no one has it all figured out yet.

Yesterday was the day of two dates. Enter Jan. A nice boy my age who’s a neuroscience major at Princeton. I met Jan the night I ran away from D, (skittered really) because I freaked at the post-date cuddlemakeoutfest that was inevitable, and instead went to a house party a friend was throwing. I was probably sulking on the couch, re-analysing the night with D, but Jan came along and we struck up a conversation. I didn’t expect anything. I figured it was another one of those typical encounters – you meet, you speak and you leave. But the following week he called and suggested coffee – we didn’t because I was out of town. And again, I figured that was the end of it. A week later I received the cutest message on facebook. So attempt number 2: he stalked my profile and sent a message to who he wasn’t sure was actually me. That was so endearing I had to give him a shot. So we did lunch, and then wandered through a flea market yesterday. A day-date, as Maggie would put it. An easy, no-pressure outing, no expectations, no commitments.

It was nice.  So I guess this is what dating is all about, huh?

A few hours later, D messaged unexpectedly. I’m not sure what it is – whether I’m paranoid or insecure, but I never expect to hear from him. I always figure he’d lose interest at some point or another, since I must appear flustered and confused. But last night, I think I said everything that I’ve wanted to say. I’m sorry about disappearing that night – it was rude. I know I’ve been really complicated and my boundaries haven’t been clear. I like you genuinely, as a person. I have fun with you. At some point during the night, I did lay out my boundaries. And what’s more, I stuck by them. I think I’ve figured out how to encorporate my natural personality with this whole growing up thing – I’m naturally stubborn. A few days ago, I was talking to MT – ranting about how frustrated and confused I was. He told me perahps what was the most lucid and coherent advice: “dude. Write down your boundaries, stick them in your closet, and then go and have fun.” Simple as that.

In sticking to my boundaries, I think I genuinely surprised D. Perhaps its because he’s older, and has seen more of life. Maybe some time ago, he gave up on the idea of true love, or waiting for the right person. Maybe he’s been around so many girls who are all talk and contradiction that he just assumes everyone else is as well. Maybe on the whole, some things sound too good to be true. Keynote moment last night:
me – so these are the ground rules
him – okay, but I don’t like them very much
me – that doesn’t matter, but you’re going to respect them.

At the end, he actually said he respected me for sticking to my guns. He didn’t think I would.

Here’s the ironic thing. In holding my ground, it was interesting how almost instantly, I felt like the tables were turned. He wasn’t in control – I was. And I’m not left wondering and wanting him, he is. He doesn’t want a relationship and told me not to fall. Now, I don’t think that I could. I’m content right now, just dating and going as far as we are. But I can already see the conversation that I’m going to have with him, I can see myself being alright afterwards, and I can even see us being just casual friends.

Boundaries. Huh. Who knew they would make such a difference?

Second star to the right, and straight on until morning

Growing up is something that I’ve wrestled with since I was a child. Maybe because my childhood was so full of grown-up issues, that most of the past is a confusing mix of kid moments peppered with big-people crises. If a happy childhood is meant to prepare you for the responsibilities of adulthood, does it mean those who had a complicated childhood are less prepared for the pressures? Or when we’re grown up and finally have control of our lives, does it mean we’re constantly compensating for the past?

I don’t know why I’m so adverse to the idea of growth. Why I am so reluctant to confront the good and the bad of being an adult. I want to understand why I am so uncomfortable, confused and indecisive when it comes to having non-platonic relationships, why I feel so deeply torn and conflicted. Romance is one of the best experieces of being young. If my friends can enjoy being youthful, attractive and meeting new people, why am I so timid?

I’ve always said that I have Peter Pan Syndrome. Not wanting to grow up. But what if all along, I’ve been Wendy instead. The odd girl of the group,  struggling with the daunting idea of being a woman. Where to begin? What to do with all these new feelings and responsibilities when all along things were so simple and clear, and a kiss is exchanging a thimble?

What if all along, Peter Pan -  the story of the boy who never grew up was really about Wendy.  What if it was really about spending your last night in the nursery and then trying to find a place where you never grow up, never join the ranks of the old, stuffy and cynical. What if it was about holding on to stories, and bedtime and the feeling of being safe and protected by parents who love you.

In the end, we all grow up and face the inevitable. What remains is how you confront it, and with what grace you pull it off. But I’d like to think that like Wendy, I know how to find Neverland. Second star to the right, and straight on until morning.

Sparky

I don’t normally like to talk about other people, but this time I’m making an exception. Generally, I find it somewhat slimy, even if during the actual gossiping, your curiosity is piqued and you feel in the loop. I’m not going to justify why I need to get this out, I just do.

In ever organization, there’s one of them. The black sheep. Some wanton character that usually acts on impulse, without much consideration on how their behavior and decisions will affect others. And in a sorority of some 70+ girls, it’s bound to happen.

Sparky is our self-proclaimed black sheep, and I don’t pretend to understand her. Sometimes I wonder how anyone can live under the pressure of certain reputations. As if a reputation is really, a self-fullfilling prophecy. A girl has a reputation for being loose, so she thinks, “heck, why not? Not like people aren’t talking anyway.” And sometimes, the reputation is just an act, a projection of ourselves as who we’d like to be, or how people should see us. In high school, my projected image was this rough and tumble, hard as nails, sharp witted tomboy. I shyed away from the limelight because I was afraid that I wouldn’t stand in it to begin with, so I made-believe that I didn’t care. All the girls around me were experimenting with makeup, clothes, boys.. I thought better to scorn it all than try and not make the cut, and stick out as the freak I really am.

But while reputations are not necessarily accurate or even insightful – they still matter. They matter because as much as we’d like to think that other people’s opinions are autonomous and exogenous from the choices we make, they really aren’t. In some way or another, we’re all affected by the attitudes and behavior of those around us.

Whether its because I’ve held so staunchly (at least, outwardly) to my catholic-school girl mentality, by in large, I have a pretty spotless reputation. I’m not citing this as a good or bad thing, it just is what it is. I’ve never really dated in college, and certainly never in high school. The few relationships that I’ve dabbled in, are literally at least 12 timezones away. I really doubt anyone here has any “dirt” on me. Usually this gives me a sort of peace of mind, (in a strange way) but what I’ve come to understand is that after high school, we stop defining good and bad in black and white terms. Being “good” is no longer about the things you don’t do. It’s not about not smoking, not drinking, not doing drugs or having sex. People grow up, and begin to appreciate the shades of grey. That squeeky-clean kid with a “spotless” record, doesn’t make them any more morally superior, or perhaps what’s more important – any wiser or more experienced.

It’s no longer about keeping your nose clean, and having the wisdom to make the right choices (“right choices” being things-not-to-do) but how you manage relationships, and moving gracefully through life.

If anyone was to pick out the black sheep, the mistake-prone kid in our sorority, Sparky would be high on the list. I don’t know her very well, and it would be a lie to pretend that I care for her as one of my close friends, but I do have concern for her. But most of all, I just wonder. I wonder how she got to where she is, and why she made the decisions she made. Not good or bad, just why. Because what’s a little frightening is, lately I’ve seen a side of myself that I never knew (or perhaps, admitted) existed.

You grow up driven, ambitious, odds stacked against you (and Asian, let’s throw that in for good measure) and at 22, you think you know yourself. Ambition requires sacrifice, the sacrifice being developing the skills and experience to navigate through sticky social situations. You spend nearly two decades of your life in school, and you realize just as you’re about to leave, that you really know nothing about the world. The world isn’t about measurements and grades, concrete yardsticks and red ink. It’s complicated and messy. It’s about taking risks, and getting hurt. Sacrificing not for a promotion but for a person, which yields no monetary rewards. It’s about relationships, and trust, learning how to be more than friends, and just when you think you have built you castle in the air – learning to face having it kicked down and starting over again.

There are parts of myself that I never knew existed. This ability to tease, be desired and emotions that need tending to. Not everything physical means something emotional – and that to me is so foreign. Because I always thought that if ever someone was interested in me, it would be because of my intellect, and our relationship. This whole phyiscal attraction thing is like adding a third dimension to a 2D girl. I’m not quite sure I know how to encorporate it into my cosmos.

And what about Friday night. It was a blast, sure. And nothing has happened since. But to think of it, it’s a little frightening.. this battle of the sexes. Women want greater equality (more power) vis a vis men. Men, on the other hand.. can sometimes resent women for the power that they do have. As my friend J would say, “the spirit is willing, but the body is spongy and bruised.” Not to be a bad pun or anything, but men.. these creatures that we want, desire to make us feel safe, wanted and at least in my perspective – to lead, it’s frightening to think that they are spongy and bruised. Being around D is intimidating, not becuase of him.. but because I’m a little afraid of what I might be capable of.

So looking at Sparky, makes me wonder a little. It makes me think that perhaps we’re not so different. Perhaps her most recent tryst, wanting a guy who doesn’t want her – at least until he does so she can dump him (confused, anyone?) – maybe that’s something that isn’t so far beyond what I’m capable of doing. I’ve always seen myself as a good person – and more specifically, a good girl. But what if it was never goodness, really – but a kind of ignorance? Wanting to be blind, to not understand the darkness because it’s just easier and more comfortable, and more morally superior to be in the light.
With D, I have a decision to make – regardless of his actions. I need to decide the kind of person that I want to be, and the kind of boundaries I intend to keep. In the past two weeks, I’ve discovered a little of why my girlfriends keep telling me that it’s fun to be a girl. They’re right. It is. It’s like mid way through the poker game, and discovering you’ve been dealt an ace. Except power should always come with responsibility, and it’s time that I understood mine.

third wheel

I need to give myself credit sometimes. This year I’m more busy than ever, and making a concerted effort to maintain a sense of balance in both personal and professional life, and so far, I think I’ve done fairly well. Friday morning I got in early to work on some stuff for a personal injury lawsuit our firm is handling, and then my boss let me meet with the client and update them on the case. That was pretty wild. I was asked for my business card afterwards – and I’ve barely been here for more than three weeks. I think it’s time I added my name to the plaque outside the door. Heh.  Then it was off to class (international law) and after that to my other job at admissions. Tour day. Yay.

I took my friend A out for a girldate. Good times. Then it was off to NYC’s longest running rock club where a friend (and *cough* D) were performing. It was so strange, seeing him on stage. I came late, and I don’t think he ever saw me in the audience, in spite of my jedi powers. What followed could probably be taken out of any teenage movie. The nervous glances across the bar, friends teasing and urging.. getting lost in a crowd of people and pretending to be disinterested. And of course, the quintessential glancing at each other while having conversations with other people.

What followed was a wild night on the town. A bunch of us went to a club, but his friends eventually left, and it was just me, D and my friend Maggie. First off, I love Maggie. It must have been one of the strangest “dates” in the history of man, because she was definately in the role of the third wheel. But we actually had a blast. If D was disappointed that we weren’t alone, he certainly didn’t show it. The three of us wound up rocking out all night, getting food at 4AM and went home around 5. Maggie stayed over and the two of us snuggled under the covers and giggled about boys until 6AM.

If there was ever a definition of sisterhood, then this was it. Not being afraid to be the third wheel on a friend’s date, and going home to cuddle and giggle.